San Cassiano: How to Survive the Zoning Board

On October 23, 311 AD, two Christian missionaries, Frontiniano and Cassiano, were killed by Imperial agents to prevent them from spreading the Word of God around Alba, in Piemonte. A mistake on the part of the agents, because the two became saints, and the place they were martyred, about a mile beyond the city walls, became an important shrine. By 700 the Longobards had built an abbey that grew in importance, surviving the attacks of Saracen raiders in the 900s, and by the early 1200s the Abbot was also a feudal lord with lands scattered throughout the area, forests, villages, olive presses, and mills. This didn't sit well with Alba, which drew much of its power from its control of the surrounding countryside, and relations were tense; with time, however, the abbey declined (having wealth and managing it well are two very different things), and by the time the Plague swept the land in the 1300s it was but a shadow of its former self -- as was the city of Alba, which had been so weakened by internal power struggles that a succession of outside powers took it over.

In 1419 Alerino Rambaudi, Alba's Bishop, launched a program to restore the abbey, which proved unsuccessful, and on Ash Wednesday 1455 the relics of Saint Frontiniano were transferred to the Cathedral, where they remain to this day; the next year the Abbot donated his church and lands to the bishop, and the Abbey of San Frontiniano ceased to exist. The buildings continued on, however, becoming a hospital and suffering terrible damage when Emperor Charles V and King Francis I of France fought for the control of Monferrato in the 1550s. Following the peace reached in 1559 the complex became a hospice for the dying during plagues, and though the lands continued to provide substantial income the buildings not necessary for working the land were left to ruin. By the 1700s people referred to what remained as San Cassiano; the Napoleonic edicts stripped the Church of its lands in the early 1800s, and Elio Rossetto's family purchased San Cassiano and the surrounding fields from the King in the 1860s.

All that remains of the monastic complex are two very long sheds arranged in parallel, one of which has a house at one end. This was all the family needed to raise cattle and sow wheat, and they did quite well -- until one day in the mid-1980s, when the city of Alba changed the zoning on them: Their fields were to become suburbs, and they could no longer keep cattle.

Elio's brothers are both lawyers, and were therefore (relatively) unaffected by the provision, but he and his wife Daniela were stuck. "It was a shock at the time, but turned out to be a blessing in disguise,"he says, "because since then the world markets have been flooded with cheap genetically engineered wheat that I would never have been able to compete against."He didn't want to give up farming, so he decided to raise vegetables and fruit. But he was also working as a sales rep, and the clients who were buying the wines he represented kept asking him for local foodstuffs as well -- products along the lines of those he was making to give to friends.

In hindsight the next step seems obvious: in 1990 he visited an expert in the production of quality foodstuffs. "The quality of the basic ingredients is of course important,"he says"but it's not sufficient by itself. It's just as important to provide quality service, and to follow production techniques and procedures aimed at quality." There's much more variability to food than there is to wine -- the ingredients change from lot to lot and from seasons to season, and again over time in the container; despite this the product has to remain consistent or one looses the consumer.

Elio says industrially prepared foods are excellent from a technical standpoint, but the ingredients are what they are -- inexpensive to keep prices down. Since he cannot hope to compete with them at the price level (volume alone helps drive down prices of industrially produced foods) he works with the freshest, highest quality ingredients he can find. The results reflect this; many things closely resemble what one might make at home if one had time -- rich, creamy pesto with lots of basil and pine nuts, garlicky bagna caoda, salsa verde, and artichoke cream. There are also lots of things one might not think to make at home, for example tiny bell peppers stuffed with anchovies and herbs, or peaches in syrup with Dolcetto, or tangy mostarda (fruit preserved with spices, especially mustard seed, which goes quite well with bollito misto), and many things that one would be just as happy to purchase -- anchovies packed in oil with herbs (a testament to the commerce between Liguria and Piemonte), pasta made with truffles, or hand-pulled torrone, made with locally grown hazelnuts (by Daniela's father).

Of course production is only half the battle: One then has to sell. Because of his prices Elio has chosen not to go the supermarket route, as many things would sit on the shelves and go stale. So he visits trade fairs instead; products with the San Cassiano label are now available in many of Italy's best delicatessens, and also in top stores in a dozen other countries.

Elio and Daniela have taken a bureaucratic whammy and turned it into a gourmand's delight. If you would like to know more about San Cassiano, or perhaps know where you can find the products, visit their site, which has historical information, a product list, and will soon offer on-line sales as well (all in English). You should also seriously consider visiting them should you visit Alba -- they are extremely pleasant, and you'll discover a facet of Italy one cannot see in a church. To reach San Cassiano drive all the way to the end of Corso Europa, the road leading towards Barolo, and turn left back towards Alba when you reach the fork in the road (Loc. S. Cassiano, 4; 12051 Alba (CN); Tel: +39 173 / 283709; Fax: +39 173 / 282638.

Moving on to other things, this spring I visited Fontanafredda, a beautiful winery founded a little over a century ago that you should definitely see if you explore the Langhe, home to some of Italy's most spectacular castles. Though I tasted a number of wines at the time, at VinItaly this year I took advantage of the occasion to taste several more.

Barbera Vigna Raimondo 1995 is deep ruby red with an orange rim, and has the typical Barbera fruit/floral notes on the nose, laced with some spice from wood. The palate reflects the nose, with good fruit; the wine is moderately full, smooth, with well-rounded tannins, and quite clean, with clean fruit overtones on the finish. It will go well with white and red meats, roasted white meats, mild cheeses, and has enough tannin to stand up to game as well, while the natural acidity of the Barbera grape will also make it a good companion for baked pasta dishes such as lasagna.

Parpan Pinot Nero 1993 is a purple-black red. The bouquet is elegant, warm, and complex, with stewed woodberry fruit that blends pleasingly with spicy notes from barriques. On the palate it is medium bodied, with nice fruit and well-rounded tannins whose faint burr will help clear the palate after a bite of a rich stew. The finish is clean, warm, and laced with berry fruit. An elegant wine that will go well with red meats, roast turkey, and mild cheeses.

Barolo Vigna La Villa Paiagallo 1993 is one of Fontanafredda's crus, a single-vineyard Barolo. It's a warm brick red with orange rim, and has an ethereal bouquet with rose hips, dried flowers, goudron, green tobacco notes and dried berry fruit on the nose, as well as some warmth from large wood. No vanilla or spice. On the palate it is quite full, with nice fruit, pleasing warmth, and tannins that have yet to loose the aggressiveness of youth.

Barolo Vigna La Rosa 1993 is another Barolo cru, and is also warm brick red. On the nose it is again complex, with slightly more spice (not vanilla) and delicate, ethereal floral notes. On the palate it's rounder than La Villa Paiagallo and slightly less full, but with nice fruit and a pleasing ethereal feeling of warmth. Of the two, I liked it a little better, as it seemed more balanced. Both will go well with red meats and aged cheeses, though neither demands a special occasion -- they're good expressions of an off year, and will add a nice touch to a meal among friends.

Fontanafredda may have been born to make red wines, but oddly enough, half its total production -- somewhat more than 3.5 million bottles -- is sparkling sweet wine, mostly Asti. The basic Fontanafredda Asti is my favorite among the high-volume productions, because it's a bit more delicate than the others I've tasted, and achieves a nice balance between sweetness and acidity.

Fontanafredda's Moscato D'Asti Le Fronde, which has a distinctive long-necked bottle, is another matter entirely. It's a pale gold with a light sparkle, and has a heady, elegant floral bouquet laced with honey that also has a touch of citrus to give it definition, and is a wonderful expression of the grape. On the palate it's delicate, full, and sweet, with excellent fruit as well, and just the right touch of citrus notes necessary to balance the sugars and keep them from being cloying. The finish is pleasing and long; this is a perfect dessert wine, and will also be wonderful on a summer afternoon, with a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Or at any time of day.

Fontanafredda's Brachetto D'Acqui 1997 is also good, though it doesn't reach the heights of Le Fronde. It's a pale salmon red, with a clean floral bouquet laced with strawberry, wisteria and sugary notes. The palate reflects the bouquet, with nice floral notes and good fruit, and a pleasing fullness. The sweetness is well balanced by acidity and the wine is neither sharp nor cloying, problems one sometimes encounters in Brachetto. It's a little fuller than the Moscato, and will go nicely with rich almond cookies, as well as frosting-free cakes.

To close, Marilee recently posted a message on the bulletin board, saying she had bought a bag of tarallo flour and wondering what to do with it.

Well, taralli are snack food, a type of bread common throughout the southern half of the Peninsula: they're doughnut shaped, about 3 inches across, and are moderately crunchy; they can be either somewhat sweet or slightly salty, and some people sprinkle their surfaces with anise seed, pepper, or whatever.

The following recipe is translated from De Agostini's La Mia Cucina:

Time: 1/2 hour preparation, 5 hours rising time, and 25 minutes for cooking.

• 1 pound white flour (your tarallo flour should be just right)
• 1/4 cup or slightly more honey, depending on its sweetness
• 2 eggs
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 15 grams (2/3 ounce) live active baker's yeast (of the kind that's a moist cake, and sold in supermarkets)
• Salt

Begin by placing a half cup of flour in a bowl. Crumble the yeast into it, and add enough tepid water to make a fairly soft loaf. Cover with a cloth and let the loaf rise in a warm place for about an hour, or until it doubles in volume.

Next, mix together on your work surface 3 1/2 cups of flour, a pinch of salt, 2 tablespoons olive oil, 2 eggs, the honey, the starter loaf, and a little warm water. Knead the dough energetically for a few minutes, then pinch off so many egg-sized pieces and roll them into 3-inch snakes on a floured work surface. Pinch the ends together to make rings, put them on a lightly floured pan, cover them with a cloth, and put them in a warm draft-free place to rise for 4 hours.

When they have risen, preheat the oven to 360 F (180C), and bring a large pot of unsalted water to boil. Lightly grease a cookie tin with the remaining oil. Dunk the taralli in the boiling water, and as soon as they rise to the surface remove them with a slotted spoon and arrange them on the tin. Bake them for 15-20 minutes, or until golden.

According to La Mia Cucina they'll keep quite well, for a couple of months in a well-sealed box. They also suggest substituting 1/2 cup sugar for the honey if you wish.

There's another version of taralli that can be dipped in wine: use the same ingredients called for above, but substitute 1/4 cup sugar for the honey, and add a half teaspoon of vanilla extract, 1 tablespoon of whatever liqueur you like (something sweet and aromatic I would think), and 1/2 teaspoon powdered cinnamon.

Then, once the taralli have risen, fry them in hot oil till half-done, remove them to absorbent paper, incise a ring in the upper surface (what you end up with will look like a circular two-lane road), and finish frying them.

These should be served immediately, as they don't keep well, with a sweet dessert wine such as Moscato di Pantelleria or sweet Marsala.

A printer-friendly version of this recipe.

Good Food & Drink,
Kyle Phillips

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Translations Phillips; and San Cassiano, Fontanafredda notes & photos San Benedetto and sunset © Kyle Phillips. Drawing San Cassiano and photo Fontanafredda used with permission of San Cassiano and Fontanafredda, respectively.